


how jesper fahey likes his waffles

by fricklefracklefloof



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Awkward Kissing, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Quite Literally, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Waffles, but i swear i make up for it, i don't know where exactly but, it's literally just them being boys, lots of sugar involved, post CK, really really small angst, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fricklefracklefloof/pseuds/fricklefracklefloof
Summary: Wylan sees a lot of things. He knows small things about people others might not notice, creates hypotheses about others based off observations of what they say and do.And sometimes he experiments. Sometimes it's something as simple as making waffles for Jesper.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck
Comments: 16
Kudos: 103





	how jesper fahey likes his waffles

It was barely light out when Wylan woke up that morning. So early that the sunlight barely bled through the curtains, subtle hints as the sun peeked over the horizon.

He wanted to have enough time. To do it right.

He eased slowly out of bed, careful not to wake Jesper next to him. He’d probably sleep until noon anyways, but Wylan wasn’t taking any chances.

He crept through the hallways like a ghost. A few of the servants must have already been awake, but the mansion felt eerily quiet as Wylan made his way through the large rooms, dimly lit by the gradual sunlight.

As Wylan passed his mother’s room, he hesitated for a moment, but continued on. Marya was well on her way to recovery, but occasionally nightmares still plagued her sleep. She needed as much rest as she could get.

Besides, Wylan knew what he was doing.

He found the kitchen empty. The cooks would probably be up soon, but Wylan wanted this. He needed the space.

Wylan inhaled, then exhaled, rolling up his sleeves. This might have been simple for anyone else, but Wylan could already feel the self doubt invading his mind. 

_What does that say, Wylan?_

He’d tried. He’d tried so hard. But no matter how hard he focused on the words, they wouldn’t rearrange themselves into something that was legible.

_That’s your_ name. _What kind of self-respecting mercher can’t read his own title?_

He took another deep breath. Though deep down he knew it wasn’t the same, Wylan couldn’t help but feel that trying new things would only end in failure. He was worthless and untalented, too dim to do anything very useful.

_One thing at a time._

He recalled the little rhythm he’d put to the words of the recipe. That was familiar. He knew that like the back of his own hand. The steps were repeating incessantly through his head, over and over in a loop, like a song that wouldn’t stop repeating its chorus. Quickly the rhythm flooded his mind and drowned out the sound of his father’s haunting voice, soothing him.

Tapping his fingers softly on the counter to the beat, Wylan got to work. He went slowly, careful not to make noise and even more careful not to mess things up. Jesper with his unlimited energy would be impatient to get things done, bouncing on his feet and probably making a mess. 

Remembering where everything was proved to actually be more difficult than actually remembering the recipe. Wylan hated how he had lived in this mansion for most of his life, but still didn’t know his way around the kitchen. He hadn’t needed to. The successful merchers, the ones who were smart enough to inherit their father’s fortune, weren’t supposed to need to know how to cook. The truth of this fact made him feel ashamed.

Wylan wanted to change that. He needed to be able to take care of himself. And Jesper.

The first waffle came out of the iron a little burnt, but that was alright. Wylan had been more terrified of it being undercooked. Seeing the finished product made him want to dance a little. It was pathetic, but the fact that he’d actually made something on his own made his heart swell with pride.

After another successful waffle (less burnt this time), he fell into more of a rhythm. He hummed a little song as he turned the iron, giving it just the right amount of time to cook as the music played in his head.

“Wylan?”

He jumped at the sound of the cook’s voice, nearly burning himself on the stove. “Yes?”

“You’re… making breakfast?” With a pang, Wylan noticed her arms full of bags of food from the market. Or, at least, what she could find. She wouldn’t stop apologizing lately about how little she could find due to the plague cautions. Wylan thought everything she made was fine.

“Yeah, um… sorry, I should have let you know. Just for today.”

The cook seemed guilty. “I can make you waffles, if you’d like.”

“No, no, I wanted to do it myself. Thank you, though, Amira.”

The cook eyed the stack of waffles he’d made. “That’s quite a lot you made there.”

Wylan glanced at it and reddened. He’d gotten so caught up in the music he hadn’t realized how many he’d actually made, nor how much time had passed. The morning sun was up now, shining brightly through the windows.

Maybe he hadn’t needed to make quite so many. He’d only intended to make enough for two, but the batter had allowed him to make almost twice that amount.

“Yeah. They’re for someone else.”

“I’m sure they’ll love them. Good luck, Wylan,” Amira said, then left him to his own devices.

This next part was a bit harder. By some miracle Marya had found a recipe for this in an old Kerch cookbook, and Wylan could not be more grateful. He didn’t have any guidance, but from his memory the recipe seemed pretty easy.

Amira kept apple juice in stock per Jesper’s request. The bottle thankfully still had enough left over. Wylan stirred the mixture in a little bowl, meticulously measuring out each ingredient with precision. It had to be perfect.

Careful not to burn himself, Wylan used the stove to warm his mixture a little. It would be better served that way.

“What the- Wy? Are you cooking?”

Wylan nearly dropped the bowl on the ground. He turned off the stove to see Jesper standing in the kitchen, bleary-eyed. It wasn’t like him to wake up at this time. “Yes?”

“I thought I smelled something. Why are you up this… early?”

Wylan took the bowl and drizzled a little of the mixture on a plate with a waffle he had placed on it, then handed it to Jesper. “To make this for you.”

Jesper took the plate with both hands. “Are you serious, Wy?” He chuckled softly. “I thought merchlings couldn’t make their own waffles.”

Wylan smirked. “This one can.” He went to fill another plate with a waffle for himself before joining Jesper at the little table in the kitchen. 

“Sorry. I think I made way too many.”

Jesper laughed. “Wylan, do you know who you’re talking to? I am the waffle-eating _champ._ I’ve finished entire troughs of these back home. This is nothing.”

Wylan blushed, but he felt a wave of relief. Obviously they wouldn’t have a problem with wasting these. Since he’d returned from the Barrel, Wylan had made a habit of wasting as little food as possible. After barely having enough to survive, he hadn’t realized how important it could be.

He nervously watched Jesper take a bite, and his eyes widened. “ _Wy!_ ”

“Wh-what?”

“How did you know I liked apple syrup on my waffles?” His grin was as bright as the sun shining through the windows, and Wylan felt his heart swell.

He flushed a little. “I heard you talking about it once with Nina.” He’d been watching on the ship from a distance, unable to keep his eyes off Jesper, and Inej, who had just woken after being unconscious for days. “ _I know just the place. They have this apple syrup…”_ It was just a hunch, but he’d hoped he’d guessed correctly.

“This is _fantastic._ ” Jesper shoveled forkfuls of the waffle into his mouth. “It’s just like the syrup at Betsy’s.”

Wylan nodded, feeling warm. He knew Jesper had been disappointed with everything being closed due to plague fears. He’d felt cooped up in one place with nothing to do. The least Wylan could do was bring him the things he loved the most to enjoy at home.

“I’m taking you there sometime, once it opens.” Wylan pictured a morning spent in a cute restaurant with warm coffee and sunny outdoor seating and hearty meals and menus read to him by a brilliant boy. “They have waffles I’d shoot you for.”

“Would you shoot me for merchling waffles, too?” Wylan dared to ask, smirking.

“Absolutely. In fact, this is a threat now. Make me waffles like this every morning or die at my revolvers.”

They laughed, drunk on sugar and excitement, and Wylan felt his fears melt away into nothing. It truly was okay. He was capable of trying new things.

“Did you even try these, Wy?” Jesper gestured to his untouched plate. “You made them, after all.”

Wylan hadn’t even thought of it. He’d been too nervous and focused on whether Jesper would enjoy his own work to try it. He moved to take a slice of the waffle on his plate.

“Wait. No. Stop. Yours is burnt, try mine.” Jesper took the last piece of waffle from his demolished plate and offered it to Wylan.

“Nooo, that’s yours! I gave you the best ones!” Wylan protested, batting his arm away. Jesper laughed and shoved it closer to his face.

“Try it. You _made_ it.”

Tentatively, Wylan took the slice from Jesper. It was drenched in apple syrup, but soft and fluffy. The dough melted in his mouth, warm and coated with sweet sugar and tangy apple juice and hints of cinnamon.

Despite himself, Wylan could not help but say: “Whoa.”

“ _See_?” Jesper whispered, but it was such a loud whisper it still echoed throughout the kitchen, and they both descended into quiet giggles.

“This is so dumb. I was actually convinced it would be horrible,” Wylan breathed.

“It’s brilliant.” 

Jesper was still inches from his face, fork dangling from his fingertips. Wylan was trembling with what he wasn’t sure was laughter or fear. 

Slowly, Jesper closed the gap between them, touching his lips to Wylan’s. The fork dropped down beside their plates. He tasted like dough and sugar and apples and cinnamon.

A moment later Wylan felt a giggle bubble up to his lips and they both abruptly broke apart, laughing breathlessly. The entire thing was hilariously awkward, only making them laugh harder.

They tried again, awkwardly fumbling together in a way that left Wylan lightheaded and drunkenly joyful. He could not stop _laughing,_ and neither could Jesper, it seemed. Never in his life had he ever felt this happy.

Eventually their laughter subsided and Wylan felt the high wear off, tapering into drowsiness. He wasn’t used to waking up this early, and now he was paying the price. The sun cast warmly onto the both of them as they settled sleepily back into their seats, Wylan twirling his fork with a piece of waffle stuck to it in a puddle of syrup.

“You’re absolutely brilliant, Wy,” Jesper murmured. His grey eyes were warm. There were freckles smattered across his face. Wylan felt him lean over and cup a hand around his cheek.

Wylan started to flush all over again. Despite everything, his heart still fluttered a little at the words.

“You can do so many things. Draw. Play the flute. Create weevils,” he said, chuckling softly. “Make waffles just the way I like it. How do you know? How do you see?”

Wylan leaned into Jesper’s hand. His fingers brushed the tips of his curls.

“I like to watch you. I like… I like to watch everything. You’re bri-brilliant, too, you know. I love to see you get excited about the things you care about.” Wylan wished he had the confidence to be so open about the things he loved. He always seemed to get shot down.

There was a huge, sleepy, silly grin gracing Jesper’s face. Feeling warm and with a smile threatening to rival Jesper’s, Wylan continued. “You’re brilliant with your revolvers, your powers. Brilliant with the way you construct your words. I’ve never seen anyone talk the way you do. Brilliant with how you carry yourself. How passionately you talk about the things you love.”

“Saints, Wy,” Jesper murmured. “I didn’t know merchlings were capable of cooking the best waffles in Ketterdam, but I certainly didn’t know they could talk like that.”

“I guess we merchlings can do a lot of things.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i'm actually godawful at writing kisses or anything very physically affectionate so i'm sorry if this is terrible but i tried my best


End file.
